Mortal Coil
by JillSwinburne
Summary: Death has a problem, his name is Havelock. Havelock also has a problem, her name is Henriette. Susan StoHelit has a lot of problems and someone's going to die. Finished
1. Chapter 1

Okay so this is the first chapter of my new fic. There is a plot, somewhere but this is more of a taster. Read, review and try not to kill me okay? lol.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from Henriette and the plot, the rest belongs to the Lord God Terry and may he forgive me for the things I am about to do.

Summary: Death has a problem, his name is Havelock. Havelock also has a problem, her name is Henriette. Susan Sto-Helit has a lot of problems and someone's going to die.

Somewhere a boy fell. Plummeted might actually have been a better word. Yes, he plummeted like a dead squirrel through the night air of Ankh-Morpok. As he fell time and space rippled around him, tearing him straight down the centre: a bifurcation in the trousers of time.

Two boys now fell. One boy hurtled towards a world of pain but ultimately a long life with only the occasional twinge in the old back muscles. The other did not. There were a couple of fairly satisfying thuds as two bodies hit the murky street below. Silence, for a long time and then just faintly, a groan. No, two groans, that wasn't right.

( gods damn formating)

As both boys rolled heavily onto their backs the trousers of time knitted themselves back together neatly. Havelock Vetinari, nineteen years old and a student of the Assassins School in Ankh-Morpok, regarded the night sky and shifted slightly. A strong hot pain shot through his back and he swore. It was at this point that all temporal hell broke loose.

Ankh-Morpok: the great wahooni, the great glittering fly covered turd of the Disc looked at the sun beginning to peak around the curtains and rolled over again, cursing quietly. After a few more minutes its conscience began to poke it sharply and insisted that it get up and with a great heave the city came awake.

The slow dull early morning sunshine did not however penetrate into the deepest dungeon beneath the Patrician's palace in the Plaza of Broken Moons. Here there were not even cracks under the door and there was a very good reason for this. Several reasons actually. They were the main inhabitants of this chamber which could really have been described as more of a pit.

The grey spirit of Waldo Furnish, a street mime wanly regarded his now useless black and white clad body.

"Scorpions," he muttered. "I hate bloody scorpions."

IT IS ONLY TO BE EXPECTED, said a voice from behind him. Waldo turned and regarded Death warily.

AFTER ALL YOU HAVE JUST BEEN KILLED BY ROUGHLY FOUR HUNDRED OF THEM.

"Four hundred," muttered the spirit of the mime. "I never realised there were so many."

IT IS A LITTLE DARK I HAVE TO ADMIT.

Waldo shrugged. "So that's it is it?"

YES. UNLESS YOU HAVE ANY LAST QUESTIONS?

The ex-mime considered this for a moment.

"There is one thing I'd like to know," he said.

AND THAT IS?

"When are you gonna come for him upstairs?"

Death thought about that for a while.

I DON'T KNOW. I SHALL HAVE TO LOOK IT UP.

"Yeh, you do that," murmured Waldo as he faded from view.

Death looked around the dark pit and shrugged slightly. He spent a lot of time here. It was the nature of the place he supposed. He wandered out through the wall and into the grounds. Binky was munching grass quietly by one of the ornamental fountains.

HOME BINKY, said Death, sitting astride his horse.

As Binky flew through the curtain of reality to his master's house Death thought to himself. He wasn't at all sure when the Patrician was supposed to die. That wasn't anything unusual, he didn't know when a lot of people were going to die but he had been getting asked a lot lately.

He wandered through his house and into the life-timer room. He strode along the high rows of shelves, his heel bones clicking on the marble floor above the soft whispering of peoples lives slipping sweetly away. He paused when he got to the V section1. Death frowned, which is a neat trick when your face is solid bone.

Carefully he moved aside a couple of life-timers and stared at the hazy silver shape at the back of the shelf.

OH BUGGER, he said.

1 Normally Death wasn't anything like as organised but Albert had been spring cleaning and had gotten a bit carried away with himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey there folks. Okay, here's chapter two. Thanks so much to all the lovely people who reviewed the first bit, you are all now my bestest friends lol! Hope you like this bit as much.

Her name was Henriette Nonsense. She was a good looking young woman of roughly twenty three years of age. She had a long nose and slightly high forehead. Her eyes were a rather pale shade of blue and right now she was using them to glare at the ruler of Ankh-Morpok in a way that stated very clearly that she was in no mood to be trifled with.

Lord Vetinari was looking at her over the top of a report on the grain tax. One of his slender black eyebrows was hitched up higher than usual.

"I beg your pardon?" he said silkily.

"I said I want to see my father."

The other eyebrow went to join his companion.

"I see. And this involves me in what way may I ask?"

She sighed. "You've got him locked up here."

"Ah."

The Patrician put down the grain tax report and steepled his fingers. He took a long breath through his teeth, tapping his index fingers against his bottom lip. Of course you did get wives and children who occasionally turned up to plead for their assorted family members whom he had temporarily incarcerated in the dungeons. However as the last occupant had been that unmarried, childless street mime he was at something of a loss as to whom she could be referring.

"And may I ask, who exactly is your father?"

"Leonard of Quirm."

Lord Vetinari did something very odd that very few people had seen him do before and even fewer believed he actually did. He blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"Leonard of Quirm, he's my father. You've got him locked up in the roof or something."

"And how precisely would you know this?"

She dug in her pocket and pulled out a rather ragged piece of parchment.

"He sent me a letter. Took a bit of time to arrive of course as he gave it to a sailor and we're a bit inland in Pseudopolis, but it got there in the end."

She handed the paper to Vetinari who took it gingerly and read it.

"Dear Henriette," he read. "I know I haven't written in a long time but I've been rather busy. You should see some of the wonderful designs I've come up with! Lord Vetinari has been so kind, giving me the loft and all my materials, not to mention this opportunity to experiment with some of my machines in the real world. We're in Klatch by the way, isn't that wonderful. We've been underneath Leshp, you know, I took you there the other year. Anyway it's all been terribly interesting but I was wondering if you could see your way to bringing me those plans I was doodling before I left, because I can't find them in the Palace so they must still be with you. Thank you. Oh er, love to your mother and so on. Leonard of Quirm (daddy)."

In true Leonard style the margins of the page were packed with miniature sketches and doodles of various oddities of the animal, vegetable and mineral variety. Vetinari handed it back.

"And this I take it is your only proof that you are the lady to whom the letter is addressed?"

Henriette smiled at him.

"Well there's these," she said, upending a large carpet bag onto the desk. They were plans. And drawings. And paper models. They were all covered in Leonard's distinctive mirror script.

Vetinari picked up a couple of the papers and glanced at them. Then he rose suddenly.

"Very well then. If you will follow me."

Henriette had to scrabble to put everything back in the bag before she followed him through the door which had appeared in the wall. She cursed herself that she hadn't seen how he did it. She followed him down a dark corridor and around a corner and down another corridor. She watched carefully as the Patrician negotiated the various traps set and copied his movements exactly, memorising them.

Eventually they reached a door. Vetinari pulled a key from his pocket and carefully unlocked the door, pressing his ear to the woodwork as he did so. Henriete soon found out why because, just as the lock clicked there was a fearful banging from behind the door and it flew open. Bits of flaming metal gouged the wall opposite the door and the Patrician had to grab Henriette and push her against the wall out of the way. She marvelled at the quickness of his reactions. He had to be nearly fifty and he had reacted quicker than a young man of twenty. She was impressed.

When he had decided that it was quite safe, Vetinari released the girl and peered around the edge of the door. He motioned her to follow. Peeling herself away from the wall she followed him into the room.

Her father was cheerfully pottering around, pouring water over the remainder of the flames and muttering to himself about temperature gauge reliability and mercury imbalances. Then he seemed to notice them.

"A great pity my lord," he said, dusting himself off. "It could have revolutionised the bread making industry."

"I wasn't aware that it was an industry which required revolution," replied the Patrician, regarding the wreckage sceptically.

"Oh every industry needs technological revolution sir. It is one of the most basic needs of progress, oh hello Henriette. Did you bring me my things?"

Henriette wordlessly handed him the carpet bag which he took greedily and began to rake through the contents. Half way through he glanced up at her.

"You're older than I remember," he said.

"Yes father," she replied. "I was sixteen when you left for Ankh-Morpok."

"Oh yes, and what was I going for again?"

"You were looking for a wealthy patron to sponsor that giant brass elephant you wanted to build."

Leonard regarded the Patrician carefully.

"Have I built you a giant brass elephant my lord?" he asked.

"I don't believe so Leonard, no."

"I see. Ah well, can't be helped." And he went back to sorting through his bits of paper.

"Well," said the Patrician, turning to Henriette. "I shall leave you with your father for the moment Miss Nonsense and shall return later this afternoon to discuss matters with you."

"Matters?" she queried as he headed for the door. He gave her a thin and rather unnerving smile.

"Matters Miss Nonsense."

And with that he was gone.

"Henriette will you pass me the Long Piece of Metal for Tightening Screws please?"

Henriette sighed. That was the nice thing about her father. No matter how much time he'd been gone he'd always act as though he had only been gone for ten minutes. It was oddly comforting.

(blahblahblahIhatethedamnformatingonhereblahblahbliddyblah)

Biers was quiet, but then it was Monday night. Susan Sto-Helit was sitting in a dark corner2, sipping a gin and tonic. She always needed a drink on the first day of the week, just to remind herself that there were still good things in life; except the gin in Biers wasn't very good at all so she was having to use a lot of imagination.

She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, enjoying the quiet. At least she was until an all too familiar voice from the table said, SQUEAK.

Susan moaned and put her hands over her eyes.

"You're not here," she said aloud. "When I open my eyes you won't be here."

Slowly she spread her fingers and peaked through them.

SQUEAK, said the Death of Rats from deep within his miniature cowl.

Susan moaned again and let her hands drop.

"What do you want?" she asked. "On second thoughts I don't want to know. Tell him I'm not getting involved."

She picked up her drink and knocked back a considerable mouthful while the little skeleton watched her mournfully.

SQUEAK EEK.

"No."

EEK.

"No."

SQUEAK EEKIT EEK EEK!

"I beg your pardon!"

The rat looked sheepish and she sighed.

"It's alright," she muttered. "Just try not to use that kind of language again."

The rat nodded and began to hop up and down.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

Susan got up and wrapped her cloak around her tightly. As she passed the bar she threw a few coins on the counter and nodded to Igor.

Outside there was a chill wind blowing. Susan took a deep breath, then remembering her proximity to the River Ankh coughed heartily. A snowy white horse was waiting for her and he nuzzled her as she stroked his nose affectionately.

"Hello Binky," she whispered before swinging herself up into the saddle. "Here we go again."

As Binky took off, cantering into the air, Susan wondered what her grandfather could have done this time that required sorting out.

In a few minutes the white horse touched down on the grass in front of her grandfather's house. Susan let him wander back towards the barn while she went inside. Albert was in the kitchen, scrubbing the hob.

"Evening Albert, where is he?" she asked.

The elderly little man peered at her and then pointed through a wall.

"Study," he muttered before going back to his task3.

Susan stalked through the house and then corrected herself; ladies walked primly, they did not stalk. Sure enough she found Death seated at his great black desk among the discarded remnants of various ill-fated hobbies. It was one of his peculiarities that, since he took what could in some circles be referred to as "human form" he had a tendency to act like a human. This usually only served to highlight how un-human he was and so his house became filled with broken violins, half finished jigsaws and barely completed paint-by-numbers pictures of cute little kittens with red bows at their necks. Just now he was occupied in one of the few human pastimes he was actually good at; building a card house. He had the infinite patience required to be exceedingly good at it.

"Grandfather?"

OH, HELLO SUSAN. HOW ARE YOU MY DEAR?

"Not bad. And yourself?"

SCYTHE ARM'S BEEN PLAYING UP A BIT BUT I CAN'T COMPLAIN OTHERWISE.

"I see."

There was an uncomfortable silence while they both tried to ignore the fact that he had not called her here for a friendly chat about health.

"What do you want?" she asked eventually and he began to fiddle with a couple of cards.

OH, ER… WELL I CAME ACROSS SOMETHING THIS MORNING AND THOUGHT PERHAPS…

"You thought perhaps I could sort it out for you?" Her voice held the tell tale note of faint displeasure which was usually enough to send the little darlings she worked with into knicker-wetting mode.

NO, THAT IS… ALRIGHT YES.

Susan folded her arms and glared at him.

"And what would this something be exactly?"

Death sighed. She wasn't going to like this, but he was so busy just now. He told her. There was a moment's blissful silence while she digested what he had said but it was only the peace that comes between the wing flaps of the quantum weather butterfly and a moment later he was subjected to the full force of the storm. She was so angry she actually used the voice.

YOU WHAT!

The card house collapsed. Death regarded it sadly, oh well, he could always build another.

2 In actual fact Biers could be described as one big dark corner but the laws of the narrative demand that the main character in the scene be seated in a dark corner so we can just imagine that Susan's corner is slightly darker and more cornerish than anyone elses.

3 Albert didn't like anyone, not even his master but while he tolerated Death he found that damn girl a right pain in the porridge pan.


	3. Chapter 3

Here ye, here ye! Here be the third part! Thanks soooo much for all the lovely reviews, you brighten my day! This bit isn't very long and there's not mu ch action, mostly reflection. I promise that the next bit will be a big action-packed chapter. Well... possibly... probably not actually but keep reading anyway lol.

Chapter the third.

The Palace was quiet at night. It was so late that even the Patrician had retired for a few hours. The scorpions rustled softly in their pit, the rats muted their squeaks and even the explosions in Leonard's workshop had stopped. Henriette was creeping along the dim lit corridors as softly as she could. She was thinking.

Vetinari had returned as promised, late that afternoon. While her father had dithered around making cups of tea he had handed her a large brass key.

"This is a key to your father's workshop," he had said. "If you go out you must remember to lock the door behind you and the same when you return. I have no intention of prohibiting you from walking the city, however I must stress that outside of these walls I cannot protect you. Leonard of Quirm does not exist; he is dead or lives somewhere far off or never existed at all, you will be the same if you intend to remain here. Do I make myself clear?"

Henriette had considered this, chewing on her bottom lip as she did so.

"Why isn't my father allowed out?" she asked eventually, playing it safe.

"Because he is a dangerous man to have walking around Ankh-Morpok."

"Dangerous! He's the most innocent person I know!"

"Exactly. It is amazing how often an innocent person can be put to bad use without their knowing. No, your father is safer here. Besides I understand that he does not wish to return to the outside world."

She had turned to Leonard, who was fighting his Machine For Compacting Sugar Into A Cuboid State. "Is this true?" she asked.

"Hm? Oh yes, quite true. It's a dreadful place out there you know. That's why I sank the Boat."

"And why he pushed the key back under the door for me to keep," said Vetinari, regarding her levelly. "You see, your father believes too much in the goodness of people. To let him loose would only hurt him."

"But I can come and go as I please?"

"Yes."

"Providing I cease to exist as a relative of Leonard?"

"I believe you have it."

And now she was wandering the silent passages of the Palace, mulling it all over. She turned up through one of the secret passages she had found earlier in the day and, dodging the various traps found her way to the door of the workshop. Before turning the key in the lock she put her ear to the wood, as the Patrician had done, listening for the tell-tale signs of imminent explosion. But there was nothing. She opened the door and slipped inside.

Leonard was lying full length on the rug near the fire. His sketch pad was open before him and he was scribbling furiously. She glanced over his shoulder critically. Leonard had had a workshop in Pseudopolis before he had come to Ankh-Morpok and when he had left Henriette, expecting him to send word within a few months, had kept things running for him. She did not have the all-encompassing genius of her father but she did exhibit a practical intelligence which enabled her to understand and advise on his designs at a level which many boggled at while lacking some of the creative madness it took to think of them in the first place.

"What do you think?" asked Leonard.

She put her head on one side and considered the design. It was a tribute to her intelligence that she knew what the drawing represented without having explained.

"What about knobs to put the numbers on?"

"Knobs for the numbers, of course!"

He fell back to scribbling for some time before finally holding the pad up for approval once more.

"It looks sound," she admitted. "But isn't it all a bit… quantum?"

"Entirely the point my dear girl!"

She shrugged. "Whatever makes you happy father."

"We shall start work on it tomorrow."

"You mean you actually intend to build it?"

Henriette was mildly shocked. The project was somewhat outside her father's usual boundaries.

"Yes, of course. Well, good night my dear, do sleep well."

And with that he toddled off to his bunk in the corner, leaving Henriette alone with the sketch pad. She looked over the drawing once more. It was well designed she had to admit, but then all of Leonard's machines were well designed1. The question was whether or not it was actually feasible. And what would Vetinari say?

She tossed the pad aside and decided not to worry about it for now. With any luck her father would have forgotten about it by the time he woke up in the morning. She shifted herself to the couch which was to become her temporary sleeping area. It had been a busy day and no doubt she would only catch up with half of it tomorrow but at least she could go to sleep in the knowledge that whatever it was that woke her in the morning, it would not be the rent collector. And with this comforting thought she rolled over and went to sleep.

lolololololololololololololololololololololololololololololoyougettheidealolololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololol

Vetinari was not asleep. He sat up in bed, a pile of reports and official looking papers in his lap. He too had been thinking.

The girl would be a problem. She had a more developed sense of reality, the lack of which had on more than one occasion been Leonard's saving grace. He had wondered at first about simply throwing her to the scorpions, but they had so recently been fed. He could not have played dumb after her revealing of the letter, so obviously in Leonard's handwriting but he had considered simply refusing to believe that she was his daughter. But that would not have worked either: the pale eyes, the high forehead, the nose were all so definitely Leonard that he asked himself how he had not seen it before.

That was another thing. Leonard had never mentioned having a family before, but then that was not a normal topic of conversation during their little chats. He was certain that there were a lot of things about him which the inventor did not know and would be the worse for knowing. So why shouldn't the man have a daughter?

_Because you didn't know._ Said a little voice in the back of his head. _You know everything, but you didn't know about that did you._

"But I do not in fact know everything," he said aloud, quieting the voice with his authoritative tone. "No, it was simply," he almost shuddered at the thought, "an unforeseen circumstance."

But she's here now. She's here now and she won't be as easy to control as the old man. It was something in her eyes, a sharpness which wagged a finger at him and said quite distinctly, "Don't bother trying to pull the wool over my eyes, I've got scissors in my pocket."

Well he would just have to make-do for the moment. Keep away from the workshop, allow her to fully comprehend her situation. That would be best. After all, the devil you created for yourself was just as good as the devil you knew.

Satisfied that he had successfully concluded that train of thought Lord Vetinari turned his mind back to the paperwork in his lap. His back gave slight twinge and he shifted position a little and it went away. It was one of his little secrets that his continually straight posture had more to do with having a weak back than it did with finding straight hard-backed chairs particularly comfortable to sit on.

1 At least to begin with. Any explosive qualities tended to be a result of attempted improvements in an ongoing work when it would be discovered that some of the things he was trying to bash together didn't get on very well.


	4. Chapter 4

Hi there. This is a really short chapter so I'm gonna tryand post two at one for ya. Unfortunately I've been having trouble uploading my documents lately so it's pretty much hope and pray on that right now. Anyway... oh I lied last time bythe way, there is no action in this chapter; not unless you count an angry Susan and some stuff blowing up. Thanks for all your lovelyreviews and please keep them coming. Ta.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Albert was hiding in the kitchen. Susan had long since stopped yelling but that didn't mean it was safe to go into the study. She and her grandfather had been locked in there for close to an hour now and Albert was nervous. He knew it was theoretically impossible to kill Death but he wondered if Susan knew that.

Eventually the door opened and Susan strode out, eyes blazing. She was holding something in her arms. As she marched purposefully out of the house Albert crept into the study. Death was seated behind his desk, his skull in his hands.

"Um… everything alright master?" hazarded the little man.

I FEEL A LITTLE SHAKEN ALBERT.

"Yes sir, Miss Susan has that effect."

SHE'S MY GRANDDAUGHTER ALBERT.

"Yes sir. Like I said, she has that effect."

Death looked up at Albert and sagged back in his chair

SHE DOESN'T LIKE IT WHEN I ASK HER TO HELP.

"It's good for her, builds character sir."

HMM.

Neither of them bothered to say that Susan had quite enough character to begin with. That was part of the problem.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

"Perhaps a small over for heating food on long journeys…"

"No."

"A device for playing music?"

"No.

"A toilet?"

"No!"

Leonard frowned at his daughter. "You know Henriette you can be very restrictive sometimes."

She sighed and rubbed a hand over her oil-stained face. "I know."

"Don't you want to help me anymore?"

He sounded plaintive and she knew that if she turned around he would be regarding her with the same huge sad eyes that you got on the pathetically cute puppies in the pet shop window. It wouldn't occur to him to be angry with her, just hurt that he thought she wasn't interested.

"Of course I want to help you father. But this design is very ambitious, even for you. I think maybe we should finish the basic machine before we go adding things okay?"

She touched his shoulder and he looked up at her, nodding slowly.

"But do you think that the oven might be a good idea when we're done?"

Henriette closed her eyes.

"Yes father, no doubt an oven for heating food on long journeys would be a very good idea. But when we're finished."

He wasn't listening, he had gone back to his wires and cogs. She had really hoped that he would get tired of this sooner or later, it wasn't worth his disappointment when it didn't work. Still, she was willing to humour him for the moment..

Leonard worked fast and already the basic shell of the machine stood near the wall. Henriette glared at it. Her father had always had eccentric ideas but this was beyond the limit. It was Vetinari's fault, it had to be. Before he left for Ank-Morpok he never would have come up with this.

The sane part of her brain pointed out that he seemed to have exhausted every other possible exercise in invention since he had been here. Their various parts littered the room. But Henriette wasn't listening; she wanted somebody to be angry at and since her father was a lost cause where that was concerned Vetinari was the best candidate for the job.

She wiped her sweat-damp hair from her eyes and went back to the control panel she had been working on. As she worked, her anger ebbed slightly. There was something about the assembling of a piece of machinery that soothed her. So enwrapped was she that she almost didn't hear her father's quietly muttered, "Oops."

Henriette managed to throw herself flat on the floor in time to escape most of the explosion. As she helped clear up afterwards it struck her that things blew up more often these days as well.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Susan was at school. Much to his general annoyance she tried not to let the fact that she was Death's granddaughter interfere with her day job. Right now she was trying to un-stick a child's fingers and not think about the thing in her desk drawer.

"There we are Tony. Just try and keep your fingers out of the glue pot from now on."

"Yeth Mith Thuthan."

"Tony, you are not an Igor."

"_S_orry Mi_ss_."

"Run along now, it's lunch time."

"Ye_s_ Mi_ss_."

The rest of the class were already filing out. Susan remained behind her desk; she never went to the staff room with the other teachers. This was mostly because she found the other members of staff to be incredibly drippy women who believed that children were little angels to be wrapped in cotton wool rather than the evil little buggers Susan knew them to be5.

She sat and savoured the quiet for a while and then… time stopped. It was the safest way to ensure that she was not disturbed. She pushed the chair back from the desk and leaned down, sliding the bottom drawer open carefully. She lifted the heavy black book which lay there and set it down on her desk. There was the faint blue haze around the edges which signalled it out as one of the books from Death's library. On the black leather cover two words were picked out in golden gothic script: Havelock Vetinari.

Susan flipped the book open and back-tracked until she found the last page. It was less than a quarter of the way through.

_…his young body crashed to the ground and lay, lifeless in the dark street. His spine was shattered, his brain dead even before his heart had beat its last. And so died the last of the ill-fated Vetinari family, his body cooling under the dark and relatively clear night sky of Ankh-Morpok._

Susan took a deep breath and closed the book. It was a horrible way to die, especially for a young man. She didn't know the Patrician but she knew what everyone said about him. Even so, she wasn't looking forward to what she was going to have to do.

She put the book away in the drawer again and let time speed up around her once more. Susan fished in another drawer and pulled out her sandwiches. She ate her lunch and marked schoolwork; life went on after all.

5 There was another reason why she never went to the staff room: namely because she had received a request from the headmistress that she never go there again after she left three teachers in tears on her very first morning.


	5. Chapter 5

Yay it worked, so now you have two new chapters to read! Does thatmean twice as many reviews? Probably not but you can't blame a girl for trying. Anyway, this is a pretty long one with much plot exposition, I just hope it's not too boring for you. It's gets much more interesting from here on in I promise (I really do promise this time). Think of it this way; instead of having to sit through the whole big scene at the end of the movie where they unmask the murderer and tell you how it was all done (gods damn Agatha Christie) you get it in the middle and can spend the rest of the time enjoying yourself! Sounds good to me!

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

It was the general opinion of the people of Ankh-Morpok that the waiting room of the Oblong Office was some kind of bizarre torture chamber, or advanced personality test. You heard stories of people going mad in there or waiting so long that they actually starved to death.

Most people blamed the clock with its irregular, soul destroying tick. Others blamed the chairs that made you sit in uncomfortable and unbecoming positions and were made of that kind of itchy wool material that keeps you scratching for hours after you've stood up. Still more blamed the room's only real full time occupant; Rufus Drumknott, his lordship's clerk.

There was nothing particularly special about Drumknott. He had not his lordship's disquieting manner or austere appearance but nevertheless he upset people. He was decidedly grey, exceptionally quiet, overly efficient and worst of all, achingly polite. The lords and council members who were apt to spend more of their time than they would like in Vetinari's waiting room despised him and others barely tolerated him. He was not even popular within the Guild of Secretaries and Executive Assistants, which was partly why he had been sent to the Patrician as a replacement for Lupine Wonse. It had been supposed it would take three weeks before he went the same way but it had been over eight years now which only made him more unpopular because people had lost a lot of money taking that bet and some of them had since been seen doing dirty jobs for Chrysophrase the troll6.

Drumknott himself did not know most of this, or if he did he kept quiet about it. The clock on the wall didn't bother him and he found the chairs to be rather comfy. He was aware that he was not well liked but that wasn't what he was there for. As long as he was useful he was happy. At the moment he was cleaning out the filing cabinet, a task which gave him a quiet satisfaction.

It was dark outside and his lordship didn't have any more appointments but was staying late to finish off some paper work. He was therefore surprised when he heard the heavy tread of what sounded like an irate member of the Watch stomping towards the door.

Drumknott sat up on his knees as the door to the outer office banged open and Henriette Nonsense blew in. She was dressed in a tunic, britches and boots, all of which had been patched and mended many times. Her thin blonde hair was falling out of its pony-tail and her face was red and angry. She scowled at Drumknott.

"Is he in?"

Drumknott thought for a second. His lordship had said that he did not want to be disturbed but he would probably be less disturbed if Drumknott simply announced that Henriette wanted to see him than if he had to come to the door to find her in a fit of the screaming ab-dabs and trying to strangle his chief clerk.

"I'll just tell him you're here."

He scurried to the door and tapped.

"Yes Drumknott?"

"Miss Nonsense is here sir. She would like to speak with you for a moment."

In the slight pause that followed Drumknott glanced at the girl to make sure she wasn't showing any homicidal tendencies towards his filing cabinet. Then the voice answered.

"Very well. Show her in."

"This way Miss."

She shrugged the bland little man aside and slammed the door behind her as she entered the office. Drumkmnott sighed. And it had looked like it was going to be such a peaceful evening.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Henriette sat down in the chair opposite Vetinari's desk and glared at the table top between them. She had not intended to come through the outer office. On the contrary, she had intended to surprise him by coming in through the hidden door in the Oblong Office that they had used yesterday. However after having negotiated the treacherous passage to the door she found that she could not open it.

She had spent at least half an hour attempting to open the door. It had to open from that side or else how could Vetinari get back to his office? In the end she had given up and had had to use one of the other secret passages which had brought her out as far away from the office as it was possible to get and she had spent a subsequent hour getting lost in the Palace proper before she reached the waiting room. Now it was late and she was more than a little ticked off. No doubt he had locked the secret door to stop her surprising him that way.

"Can I help you?" he asked pleasantly.

Henriette swallowed as much of her anger as she could and looked up at his inquisitive face.

"I want you to let my father out of the Palace."

The Patrician leaned back in his chair and placed his fingertips together.

"Surely Miss Nonsense I explained to you why that was not possible."

"You don't have to let him loose in the city, just into the garden or something. He needs fresh air, it isn't good for him to be cooped up like this."

He seemed to consider.

"And what makes you think this Miss Nonsense?"

Henriette forgot about swallowing her anger and glared hard at the Patrician.

"Look, my father has always been eccentric. Some people even call him mad but this is beyond belief! You wouldn't believe the stuff he's got me building up there! It's obvious to me that this confinement has gotten to his head. I want you to let him out before he destroys the whole damn Disc!"

Vetinari' thin lips curled into an odd smile.

"Ah," he murmured, "the touching concern of a child for her parent's well being."

Henriette only scowled.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Drumknott was nearly finished his filing. There hadn't been too much shouting from the Oblong Office and now it had gone quiet. He assumed that his master had sorted everything out.

He was just getting to his feet when a dark shape came through the wall. He took in the black cloak and cowl, the long scythe in it's hand, the aura of crackling blue energy which it exuded. He pointed wordlessly towards the office door and it nodded to him before melting through the solid wood of the door.

Drumknott slid back down onto his knees. All of the colour had seeped from his face and he was trembling all over. She had killed him, that's what must have happened. Very quietly Rufus Drumknott began to cry.

The two people in the office looked up when Susan glided through the door. The girl went very pale and suddenly gripped the sides of her chair. The man on the other hand merely regarded her with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, sorry," muttered Susan. "I didn't realise you had company."

"That is quite alright," replied the Patrician levelly. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Well," Susan felt distinctly uncomfortable. "Actually I came to see you."

"Ah."

He paused and turned back to Henriette.

"You weren't intending to make a murderous attack on me were you?"

She shook her head, still staring at the ominous apparition in front of her.

"I see. And I was not aware that there were any takers for my Assassins contract at the moment."

"Oh no," said Susan. "I'm not here because you're going to die. It's actually a bit more complicated than that."

He raised the other eyebrow. Susan sighed and pulled the cowl back from her head. The girl seemed quite relieved not to see a skeleton beneath.

"Well if you are not Death then I believe that you had better introduce yourself."

Vetinari was clearly in no mood to play games any more.

"My name is Susan…"

"So you are the Duchess of Sto Helit."

He said it quite softly but she heard it all the same. She frowned at him.

"How did you know?"

The thin smile was back as he answered.

"People occasionally tell me things that no one else wishes to hear. I often find it useful to listen."

Susan thought about this for a minute. So he had heard about her; that was interesting. Not many people knew about Susan and she wondered whom he had heard it from. She realised that she was still staring at him and turned quickly away. There was something intense about his gaze; his eyes so very blue. It was like looking into her grandfather's eyes only worse somehow.

"This young lady is Miss Henriette Nonsense. She and her father are my guests here. Won't you take a seat?"

Susan sat down gratefully and wondered what she was going to do now. It had been her intention simply to come in and get it all out of the way. She hadn't reckoned on him not being alone, or on him being him for that matter and she wasn't quite sure how to proceed.

"So," said Henriette, breaking the silence, "you're not Death then?"

"Not as such."

"Oh."

"I'm his granddaughter."

"Oh."

There was silence again. Eventually the Patrician spoke, his voice edged with sarcasm.

"Well as much as I have enjoyed this little meeting I am a rather busy man."

"Wait," said Susan.

"Madam, I have been waiting for nearly ten minutes. If you have something of value to say please do so now. If not please leave and take Miss Nonsense with you."

Susan sighed and closed her eyes. _Alright here we go_.

"You're not dead," she said slowly.

"I believe we had established that."

She ignored him. "You're not dead but you're supposed to be"

00000000000000000000000000000000000moreofapausefordramatictensionbutyougetthediea000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

When she opened her eyes again he was staring at her.

"Would you be so kind as to repeat that last statement you ladyship?" he said. He did not sound scared or worried just detached.

"You're supposed to be dead," she told him flatly.

"I see. And when exactly was I supposed to have died?"

"When you were nineteen."

"I see," he repeated.

"You don't believe me do you?" she asked him.

He fixed her with a very severe look. "You have given me no proof."

"I'm Death's granddaughter!"

"Indeed," his voice was deadly calm. "An interesting fact in itself but not, I'm afraid, proof of anything."

Susan stood up. She looked at him. It was the look that made the other persons in Biers leave her alone, the look that ensured she was never followed or attacked on her way home on dark nights, the look that said DEATH like the slamming of a cathedral door. He didn't even flinch but stared mildly back. Henriette cowered in her chair.

Susan deflated slightly; this man was impossible. Then a thought struck her.

"Do you know what a life-timer is my lord?"

"No."

"I've heard of those," murmured Henriette. "It's like an hourglass but the sand represents your life."

Susan nodded, feeling suddenly happy that the girl was here to help her.

"Yes," she said. "They exist to mark the passage of time in human life."

She put out her hand and concentrated. A timer appeared in her hand and she placed it on the desk. The name on the tag said "Edwardo Boggis".

The Patrician frowned slightly at the glass.

"That would not by any chance be the Edwardo Boggis who is currently head of the Theives Guild?"

"Probably," replied Susan who had simply picked the first name that came into her head.

"He still has a long life ahead of him I see," murmured the Patrician as he watched the silvery grains run through glass with a faint hiss.

Henriette was entranced.

"It's amazing," she breathed. She turned to Susan. "And everyone has one of these things?"

"Oh yes. Even the bloody anthropomorphic personifications have them." There was a touch of venom in her voice as she said this and Henriette made a mental note not to push the subject as it was obviously a sore point.

"And would you be so kind as to explain what the life-timer of Mr Boggis has to do with me?" queried Vetinari, not taking his eyes from the glass on his desk. Indeed he was watching it so intently that Susan could have sworn he was counting the grains and going through mental calculations to decide just exactly how much time the Head thief had left.

"This," she said, pointing, "is to show you what a normal life-timer looks like."

She waved a hand and Mr Boggis's timer disappeared.

"This is yours," she continued, holding out her hand once more.

It took longer thins time and she really had to concentrate on summoning the damn thing before it eventually materialised. She couldn't put it down because, technically she wasn't holding it. It shimmered in and out of existence in the air above her palm in a haze of glowing blue energy. Just visible on the tag was the name "Havelock Vetinari".

Henriette gasped. "But that can't be right," she said, her brow creased in confusion. "How can… is the sand really…"

"It's flowing in both directions, yes" said Susan who was beginning to get a headache from all the concentrating she was having to do just to keep the thing visible enough for them to get the idea.

As she said the sand in the glass was not simply sifting down into the lower bulb but was also streaming upwards at the same time. To be fair it was not even sand but a curious incandescent filament which filtered up and down in strange silence.

Susan looked at Vetinari who regarded the shape calmly.

"I see," he said after a moment. He looked directly up at Susan. "Why is this happening?" he asked sharply.

Susan was so taken aback by the suddenness of his question that she stopped concentrating and the timer simply winked out of existence once more. Her head hurt. Vetinari motioned for her to sit down once more and she retook her seat gratefully.

"You said I was supposed to die at the age of nineteen. Why didn't I?"

"Did your grandfather forget to pick him up?" asked Henriette.

"He never forgets anyone," she replied. "No, it has to do with time. You see when something major happens in our lives, like taking a big decision or having an accident time splits in two. In one time you come to Ankh-Morpok to make your fortune and in the other time you stay at home under the mountain and help re-open shaft seventeen, that kind of thing. Or in one time you fall off a roof and survive and in the other you don't if you see what I mean.7"

The Patrician nodded slightly that she should continue. She sighed, this was the complicated part.

"Except that sometimes things go wrong; someone goes down the wrong leg of the trouser if you like, or something else happens that throws things off slightly. In this case I think that when time split in two both of you survived."

"But wouldn't time just knit itself back together again if that happened?" asked Henriette.

"Yes but it put itself back together wrongly."

The Patrician had been listening silently but now he placed his hands flat on the table and regarded Susan carefully as he spoke.

"In other words I have continued to exist in a world in which I should have died, is that correct your ladyship?"

"Pretty much. And I don't use my title. Miss Susan is fine."

He ignored her and sat back in his chair once more, closing his eyes in thought.

"What would happen if you did nothing?" wondered Henriette quietly. "I mean everything's been fine so far right? What difference will it make if you do nothing?"

Susan smiled thinly.

"Oh time and space would eventually rip themselves apart." She gestured to the Patrician. "He's just a frayed thread in the fabric, but if someone found out and decided to give a tug…"

"Everything unravels," murmured the other girl. "I see. So what can you do about it?"

"I have to fix it," she said bitterly. "I have to fix it because if my grandfather gets himself involved it will only make things worse. It's always the same." She sighed, suddenly realising how late it was and how tired she was. "I have to take him back somehow and fix it."

"Take me back?" Vetinari had opened his eyes once more and was watching her with those sharp blue eyes.

"Yes. If I leave you here you'll get swallowed up. Time sowed you back together so there isn't a replacement waiting in another reality. If you don't go back to your correct leg when things are switched then you would cease to exist and cause even more problems."

He nodded. "And how do you propose to take me back?"

"I don't know. I can't manipulate time, but my grandfather might know how to get us back."

At her side Henriette raised a reluctant hand and blushed slightly as they both turned to look at her.

"Um, I know how you can go back."

6 The alternative was to say, "So sorry Mr Chrysophrase but I don't happen to have your money at the moment, if you wouldn't mind waiting a week or sooooohnopleasegodsnotmylegspleaseputmedownputmwdownaaaarghh!"

7 There are very intelligent men who have spent their entire lives examining the theory of the trousers of time. Learned scholars have debated their work and written books. Even more learned men have condensed these books into a series of hour long lectures with which to baffle students at the Unseen University. However there is one being which has such a hyper-intelligence that it has managed to sum up all of these theories, books and lectures into one word: Ook!


	6. Chapter 6

Yay, I'm back again! We've had internet problems so this is the first chance I've had to post, unfortunately it's only a short chapter but I like to think it's an important one. Guess what folks, stuff happensin this one! Anyway, please keep the reviews coming, they're nice there just aren't many of them hint hint

Oh and a special mesage to those whohave e-mailedonbehalf of the beloved Patrician asking me to spare his life, you will just have to wait. If i get enough reviews then i might be kind. You have been warned.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"Why is he here again?" she asked a little testily, indicating Leonard.

"Because he's the only one who knows exactly how to work it," replied Henriette matter-of-factly.

Susan shifted uncomfortably in the confined space.

"I don't mean to be rude," she said, about to be very rude indeed, "but if he's the one making it work then why did you come too?"

"In case anything goes boing."

"Is that likely to happen?"

There was silence and Susan decided not to push the question further.

She had been more than a little startled when Henriette had said she knew how to take them back in time. The Patrician too had seemed a little surprised and had raised both eyebrows in a most curious fashion. When the girl had explained he had clasped his hands and looked at her with interest.

"A time machine," he said.

"Yes sir."

"You say that you began work on it this morning?"

"Yes sir."

"Then how can it be finished?"

Henriette had smirked a little at this.

"Two people work quicker than one sir."

"I see." He had turned to Susan then. "Are you adverse to this mode of transport?"

Susan had to admit she had been sceptical but with a lack of other options she was prepared to give it a try. And so the three of them had made their way to Leonard's workshop through the secret passage in the wall of the Oblong Office. As she walked through the door Susan was sure she heard Henriette mutter something unpleasant and kick the wall with the edge of her boot but she could have been wrong.

The little inventor had greeted them cheerily as they had entered and Susan had spent several minutes staring around the airy attic room and its array of curiosities. Vetinari had drawn Leonard to one side and they had spoken quietly for a few minutes while Susan looked around. Her attention was drawn by Henriette who was removing a sheet from a large hulking shape in the centre of the rug.

"Is this it?" she had asked.

Henriette nodded. Leonard rushed over and buffed up one of the metal panels with a cloth.

"Isn't it marvellous!" he enthused.

"It's lovely," she said. "Um… why is it blue?"

Leonard looked suddenly worried and began to wring the cloth between his eyes, glancing at Lord Vetinari.

"Don't you like blue?" he asked.

"Blue is an excellent colour Leonard," replied his lordship, coming to Susan's rescue. She felt incredibly out of her depth here.

"It is a fine piece of craftsmanship," continued Vetinari. "May I ask what you call it?"

"It's the Box Out Of Time," piped up Henriette. "Or BOOT for short."

"The BOOT?" Susan almost snorted. The other girl fixed her with a glare.

"It was going to be the Box For The Transference of Matter (Including People) At A Speed Relative To The Motion Through Time In," she said. "But it doesn't quite roll of the tongue as well."

"BOOT is good," mused Susan placatingly.

Unfortunately the lack of room inside the damn thing was not so good. Susan could have sworn it was actually smaller inside than it appeared outside. There were in fact wooden benches around three walls of the box but with all four of them inside there simply wasn't enough room to sit down. As it was Leonard was over by the control panel on the back wall with Henriette close by. Susan was scrunched up against another wall, trying to give Vetinari as much room as possible without actually getting out. There was so little room in the BOOT that Susan had had to leave the scythe in the workshop, propped up against the fireplace.

"And now my lord," said Leonard, "if you would just like to give me the exact date and time we can be on our way."

Vetinari glanced at Susan. "I'm afraid that I don't quite recall."

Susan sighed. "Twenty fifth of Grune, twenty eight years ago."

"Year of the Defecating Badger," murmured Leonard, twiddling the little knobs and pulling the levers. "And the time?"

"Oh, um… I'm not sure." She looked at Vetinari who sighed rather disappointedly.

"It was not my custom to leave the Assassins School until at least ten o'clock. I suggest we start there and then simply follow myself."

"Oh but we can't move my lord," said Leonard pleasantly, continuing to set the controls.

"I thought you said this was a time machine?" said Susan.

"Of course," said the inventor. "This craft is designed to travel in time, not in space. Whatever time you go to you will remain in the same relative place on the Disc.

"So we'll just come out in the attic of the Palace twenty eight years ago?"

"Precisely!"

"Well that doesn't sound too bad," began Susan but was cut off as the box began to shake.

Leonard had pulled the final lever and everything had begun to quiver. Susan was too busy concentrating on not falling over to hear the Patrician murmur, "Oh dear."

"Spicy chicken leg anyone?" said Leonard.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

It was early evening and the guard around the Winter Palace was preparing to change. Captain Argon was just coming on duty and carefully teased out the feathery plume in his helmet with a little silver comb he kept specifically for that purpose. The captain was a rather vain man and he liked to look his best before going on patrol. To this end his armour gleamed and the black velvet of his uniform had been hand-brushed clean. The buckles on his shoes gleamed as he put his helmet on

You could say what you liked about being a Palace guard, the uniform was one of the best on the Disc. It was generally agreed that if you were going to die in uniform then this was the uniform to go in. Of course when you were a guard for mad Lord Snapcase it heightened your chances of that happening. Captain Argon was the seventh guard captain inside of a year, but they had all been idiots: the first rule of the guard captain was never to point out that ducks did not make good foreign ambassadors.

Argon wandered out to the gates to see that the sentries had been properly posted. Then he checked the gardens and the ground floor of the Palace. Working his way upwards he then checked the sentries on every floor. The Patrician was out this evening so the captain was able to walk the corridors in peace without encountering the little curly headed blonde man raving about plots by the gods and wearing his underpants on his head8. This evening all he had to worry about was running into Councillor Thunderclap who had given one of his lieutenants a nasty kick the other week. But he was surely asleep in the stables just now with a nice nosebag to keep him company.

The stars were coming out as the captain reached the roof. Leaning against the parapet he dug in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and a box of matches. As he struck a light a quiet voice behind him said, "Very foolish."

Captain Argon never found out who said this because as he turned around something pressed a point on his neck and he blacked out.

An elegant blue veined hand caught the match as it fell from the drooping man's grasp. Lord Vetinari brought the little flame up to his lips.

"Never shine a light in the dark, you never know who might be watching," he murmured. Then he blew softly, extinguishing the match just as it reached his fingertips.

8 This is the universal symbol for madness. Using someone else's underpants is simply not acceptable.


	7. Chapter 7

Yo! I know it's been a while since I updated but I've been real busy. Anyhoo this is the next chapter and this is where it all starts to get complicated so I suggest you read this while sober and at a respectable time of night lol. BTW I'm still keeping Vetinari hostage as I'm not quite convinced you deserve to get him back yet mwhahahah! Enjoy!

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Henriette looked down at the body at her feet.

"Is he dead?" she asked.

"Good gracious no," replied the Patrician as though shocked at the very idea. "He will be perfectly alright when he wakes up."

"And when will that be?" asked Susan suspiciously.

"Some time next week. Shall we?"

He was indicating the parapet.

"You expect us to climb down there!" squeaked Henriette. The man must be mad.

"At least you're dressed for it," muttered Susan.

"I can't climb down a sheer wall!"

"I didn't say you would have to," said Vetinari smoothly. "However, should you wish to remain here with our friend for the arrival of Lord Snapcase and the other guards, who are sure to notice that their captain is missing, I am sure we can spare you from our little party."

He smiled. Henriette thought it was like being smiled at by a shark. She had just realised how very white his lordship's teeth were when he put out a hand towards her.

"Miss Nonsense?"

"Fine," she growled.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

He was right; it was not in fact a sheer wall but an inclining section of the roof which sloped down to another roof on a lower level. From there it was a simple matter navigating your way among the chimneys to the stable and down through the roof hatch and then down the ladder from the hay loft. Henriette went first with his lordship behind her, softly giving her directions.

It had been agreed that Leonard should remain with the BOOT where it was least likely that he could do himself or anyone else damage. He had been told not to leave the attic under any circumstances. Nodding meekly the genius had simply produced a piece of chalk and began to scribble incredibly complex calculations on the wall. As she clambered among the chimney pots Henriette rather wondered why she had not stayed with him.

Susan took up the rear of the group. Her long dark skirt and cloak were perhaps not the best of attire for lurking on rooftops but complaining aloud was not an option. It hadn't taken too long for her to realise that she and her companions were in fact entering the domain of insane Lord Snapcase and that what should have been the simple correction of a minor clerical error could cost all of their lives if they were caught.

They had reached the trapdoor down into the hayloft. Vetinari opened it cautiously and peered inside. Susan had been mightily impressed by the way he had floored the guard, although she would never admit it.

"Everything appears to be clear."

He opened the door fully and stood back to let Henriette slip down onto the hay loft. His lordship followed and then turned to look back up at Susan.

"We're waiting your ladyship," he said sweetly and Susan muttered something unpleasant under her breath.

It was quite a jump down into the loft and while Henriette wore boots and Vetinari his black slippers Susan was still wearing the heeled boots she had had on at school. She didn't fancy having to continue this little adventure with a broken heel but her other option was getting covered in hay so she jumped and prayed that Ankh-Morpok cobbling was all it was cracked up to be.

Unfortunately for Susan, Fate had decided that she was not on her side this evening so as she jumped the tail of her cloak caught on the edge of the trapdoor. Susan jerked in the air, losing her flight path as the trapdoor crashed down above her head. She tensed and closed her eyes, expecting to meet the floor in a very sudden and painful way. However her sudden stop was far from painful and she opened her eyes to find herself tightly gripped in the arms of the Patrician who was giving her a look of extreme displeasure.

"Not quite the stealthy approach we were hoping for," he said quietly.

"Sorry," she muttered despondently as he set her down.

"This way. Quickly."

When the guards who had heard the crash finally made their way into the barn they found nothing except disturbed hay and a rather disgruntled Councillor Thunderclap. The great grey bay went back to his oats, shaking his head at their stupidity.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

There was silence in the corridors of the Assassins School. The few lamps in the passageways cast only flickering and thin light upon the floor in evenly spaced pools. Creeping noiselessly through the shadows around the edges of these pools was a deeper shadow.

Aneurin Downey did not sleep much but lately he had slept even less. It was that damn Dog Botherer. Downey had always been top of the class, always the leader of the pack, always the one with the power, the respect and the friends. But blasted Vetinari seemed to be taking over somehow.

It had been a slow process. At first the boy's marks had begun to improve until there was only a handful of points between them. Then the teachers who had always looked on Downey as a true upholder of the Assassins way had started to ignore him. He had seen the masters in deep conversation with his rival in the dinning hall or in the corner of the library or the grounds. Although Downey's friends would never really desert him, out of fear more than true loyalty, Vetinari's name was on their lips more than Downey would like and not in a derogatory fashion. Then there was the boy's aunt.

Downey did not know Madame Meserole very well but he knew she was trouble. There was nothing she would not do to see her nephew succeed. Aneurin had his eye on the Master Assassins chair and was afraid that Madame intended for Vetinari to have it.

And so he had taken to wandering the halls at night; thinking. There had to be a way to get rid of him, with his icy smiles and ever so polite tone and his bloody perfect white teeth! Git!

Downey paused in a pool of deep shadow. He was in one of the dormitory corridors and he was sure he had just heard voices moving in his direction. He listened carefully, straining his ears to pick up the slightest whisper. And there it was, a woman's voice coming towards him.

"Are you sure it's this way?" she hissed.

Someone shushed her and there was only the soft sound of footsteps. Two sets if Downey wasn't very much mistaken which he in fact was. There were not two but three people tiptoeing down that darkened corridor towards the young assassin but one of them moved so quietly that the whisper of his feet was lost in the faint hiss of the lamps.

As the feet turned a corner and began to move away from Downey he decided to follow them. He was intrigued. He slipped down the corridor they had turned down and realised that it was here that his nemesis had his room. Spurred on by the hope that the intruders were visiting the other boy for some illicit purposes he quickened his pace, a smile of grim determination touching his mouth.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Vetinari was quite amazed at how easily he had remembered the way to his old room. It was as though the route, once learned was never forgotten and he was sure he could still navigate his way here from any point in the great warren of the school.

Henriette had expressed some wonderment at the ease with which they had entered the building but he had pointed out that, like a dungeon or a cell, getting into the school was easy; the problems would arise when they wished to leave. However there would only be a problem if they were discovered and he had no intention of that happening.

When he reached the bedroom door he paused.

"Is this it?" whispered Susan and he nodded wordlessly.

"Can't we just go in and tell him to watch his step?" asked Henriette.

"No," replied Susan tiredly. "If we did that he'd remember it." She glanced at Vetinari in the gloom. "You don't remember something like that do you?"

He shook his head again although he was only half listening. He was trying to remember how it was he had managed to fall off that damn rooftop in the first place. He was quite sure he had not tripped, not him. In actual fact he couldn't remember the fall itself at all. Had he been unconscious? His lordship blended seamlessly with the shadows as he thought until even his companions found him hard to see.

So deep in his contemplation was he that he did not notice the form of the young assassin who had insinuated himself into the shade on the other side of the corridor.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Downey could see the two women clearly although he was still unaware that there was a third member of the party. They had paused outside the door of his hated rival and even as he watched the door swung open and a dark haired young man dressed in dark green and grey left the room.

However, much to Downey's annoyance he did not acknowledge the women waiting for him and even stranger, they made no move to hail him. No sooner had the door of the room swung shut than the other youth was swallowed up by the darkness and only a whisper of air told Downey that his fellow student had passed by him.

"Bloody hell," he heard one of the women mutter.

Downey smiled to himself. He was about to step into the light of the nearest lamp and introduce himself in a suitably gentlemanly and of course thoroughly menacing way when he heard a voice. It was a man's voice and not only that but it was a voice he recognised. The impossibility of it could not disguise the cool clipped tone that Downey knew and loathed so well.

"I suggest we follow him," said the voice and so saying the man stepped forward and as he passed the lamp Downey saw him.

Age could not change that long pale face and even the beard made little difference. Although the man was only visible for a moment Downey knew he had recognised his nemesis, Havelock Vetinari. But how?

Determined to find out exactly was going on Downey slipped back down the corridor after the party. Fate, which had lately been so unfair to Susan looked down on the young assassin and smiled wickedly. She was going to have fun tonight.


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry I've taken so long to update but I've had a tonne of stuff to so for uni. Another shortish chapter I'm afraid but don't worry I'm almost nearly possibly finished lol. Thanks for all the reviews (please keep them coming) oh and Vetinari says could someone get him a toothbrush cos he thinks he's going to be here for a while. : )

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

The two guards stared at the little man. He was humming to himself and scribbling on the wall with a piece of chalk. He seemed rather harmless but he was nevertheless out of place.

"What chew doin' 'ere granddad?" asked one burly guard.

The little man turned around and gave him a broad smile.

"Oh, hello there," he said pleasantly.

"Who are you?" asked the other guard suspiciously.

"My name is Leonard. Would you by any chance happen to be palace guards?"

The two men looked at each other for a minute before the first one nodded.

"That's right," he said.

"I see."

Leonard looked a little put out at this and seemed to be considering going back to his scribbles but he instead put down his chalk and sighed.

"This is really most inconvenient but would you mind waiting here a moment?" he asked before disappearing inside the large blue box which was standing in the middle of the room.

The guards stood scratching their heads for a minute before the little old man returned. He was holding something behind his back.

"Could you possibly stand a little closer together gentlemen?"

The guards moved closer together, grinning in an indulgent manner. That was when Leonard brought out the thing he had had behind his back. It was a long steel tube with a kind of trigger mechanism at the bottom. Before the guards could move the inventor mounted the thing on his shoulder and squeezed the trigger.

The guards tried to run for it but discovered they were caught within what seemed to be some kind of large fishing net which Leonard strung up over the rafters.

"I'm terribly sorry about all this," he said chattily. "But the Patrician didn't want anyone interfering. If you wouldn't mind just keeping quiet until he gets back I'm sure he'll be ever so grateful."

The guards, who had been on the verge of calling for help, relaxed in their net. The old coot was under orders from Snapcase; that made sense. They settled down for a long wait.9

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Following Vetinari was a difficult business. The boy used the rooftops like a cat and was continually lost from sight either by chimney pots or by virtue of his great gift for concealment. Susan was convinced that had they not had the grown man with them they would have completely lost track of him as soon as he exited the Assassins school.

As it was even Vetinari had to occasionally pause and consider before continuing on the trail of the younger man.

"Small Gods route," she had heard him mutter to himself at one point.

Susan had no idea what this was except that it seemed to be the name of a particularly tricky passage over the rooftops of Ankh-Morpok. For the second time that night she found herself in awe of the Patrician. The climbing and jumping seemed to cause him no problem whatsoever, which was remarkable for a man of his age who had spent the last ten or so years behind a desk.

Henriette too was impressed and could not help remembering the speed of his reactions that first day outside her father's workshop. Both she and Susan found their trek hard going but neither was going to be the first to complain. Part of their silence also had something to do with the feelings of guilt and embarrassment they were prey too at the moment.

Havelock Vetinari was a striking man whom most would probably call handsome if they were brave enough to admit to an opinion on the subject. However from the brief glimpses of his younger self they had been able to steal during their journey it could be said without doubt that as a young man he had been nothing less than stunning.

The thick waves of black hair, the long delicate nose and the peculiarly bright eyes all served to give him an air of rakish splendour. His thin lips were quirked into a self-assured and even arrogant smile and limbs had the motion reminiscent of the sleekest of panthers. It was all of these characteristics which brought forth a kind of guilty fascination in both Susan and Henriette. Some of that guilt stemmed from the fact that, in glancing at the Patrician who walked on ahead of them they could not help but notice he had retained many of these features. They both became suddenly thankful for the darkness that surrounded them that their blushes were invisible.

After about half and hour they paused. Through the gloom the girls could just discern the outline of the young assassin slipping in through the upstairs window of a house nearby.

"We can wait here a while," said the Patrician, seating himself on a low parapet in order to wait.

"What are you doing?" asked Henriette.

"I believe I am inhuming Lord Heatherton Compton-Smythe at a price of ten thousand Ankh-Morpok dollars," he replied calmly.

"What!" exclaimed Henriette. "You're killing someone!"

The Patrician frowned. "If you have to couch it in such low terms. Yes Miss Nonsense, I am currently involved in the act of killing someone."

"But, but!" she spluttered, looking to Susan to help.

"We can't do anything about it," she said, glaring at Vetinari in her most disapproving manner. "It's in the past and if we do anything it will only make things worse."

"Quite," replied Vetinari, closing his eyes in a restive attitude. "The trousers of time have enough holes in them without us attacking them with garden shears."

That seemed to be all he intended to say on the matter. Susan turned to watch the house and Henriette threw herself onto a corner of the flat roof, muttering about how all the loonies and mass murderers seemed to end up Patrician these days.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Downey was beside himself. The Compton-Smythe job should have been his. Smythe was one of the most well off and despised lords in the city. His name on a list of contracts closed would be a sure sign not only of efficiency, his lordship was well aware of his lack of popularity and took pains to guard himself, but of social standing. Getting a contract like this meant that you had made it as far as the Assassins were concerned.

Downey had heard that the contract was under offer and had proposed himself immediately. He had been unaware that Vetinari had already been selected to carry out the inhumation and the revelation of this made him so mad he considered diving in through the window and ensuring that the job was so badly botched Vetinari would never get another assignment again.

Indeed he had been half-way across the roof, his curiosity about the other boy's followers forgotten until he had heard one of the women muttering something that sent a chill down his spine.

"Patrician."

This man was the Patrician of Ankh-Morpok, or would be the Patrician of Ankh-Morpok at some point. Downey froze in the shadows. From the little he had been able to pick up from their sparse conversation he understood that their purpose here was temporal and that they had come from some time in the future.

Havelock Vetinari was to become the Patrician of Ankh-Morpok. Downey now realised that this was the great future Madame had set out for her nephew. At first he liked the idea; it meant he was free to be Head Assassin as he wished but then the awful truth struck him, that he would still be subordinate to his nemesis. And wouldn't Dog-Botherer just love that.

A movement caught the boy's eye and he realised that Vetinari was leaving the house. He would now make his way back to the school and report to the Head Assassin in the morning. A thought entered Downey's head.

And why not? Competition was expected, nay, encouraged among young assassins. A not so tragic accident and bye-bye Patrician Vetinari. Why not?

And so as an unsuspecting Havelock took to the rooftops once more for a stroll Aneurin Downey slipped on ahead, making plans.

9 Thus we come to another universal truth; palace guards are generally pretty stupid and have their own special brand of logic shared only by those anti-social bits of black weed that grow at the bottom of oceans and smell inexplicably of cabbage.


	9. Chapter 9

Hi there. Another short chapter I'm afraid but joint English Literatureand History makes for a lot of work so sorry about that. Shouldn't have too much left to go after this anyway Yay! or possibly Boo! I'm not sure yet lol. By the way Vetinari wants to know if someone can send him the report on the grain tax as he's getting rather bored of Northanger Abbley and wants something a bit spicier. Enjoy boys and girls.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

The bedroom window of Lord Heatherton Compton-Smythe was rather large. It was big enough for person to enter and exit through; if they could navigate the near invisible mesh of steel wire that criss-crossed the frame in a tight lattice that is10. But apparently someone had done just that.

Death turned his attention back from the window to the phantom of the recently deceased Lord.

"I don't think that was very fair," said the little man who would have looked more formidable had he not been wearing a powder blue sleeping cap with a bobble on the end.

REALLY? Said Death. IT SEEMS FAIR ENOUGH TO ME.

"Well I might say that it's all very well for you to say so but you're not the one who's just been stabbed in his sleep."

I CAN THINK OF WORSE WAYS TO GO, muttered Death who was looking out of the window again.

"Really?" huffed his lordship. "Well I'd like to hear them!"

Death leaned forward and whispered in the little man's spectral ear. If it is possible for a ghost to go white then Lord Compton-Smythe managed it.

"Um yes… well…"

AT LEAST BE THANKFUL THAT HE CLEANED UP AFTER HIMSELF.

"Yes, yes I'll try and remember that," muttered his lordship to himself as he began to fade.

Death turned back to the window once more and looked out to the rooftop opposite where a number of shadows had just detached themselves and were slinking away into the night, accompanied it must be said by a certain amount of bickering. Among them was a voice he recognised.

OH DEAR, he muttered. I WONDER WHAT I'VE GOTTEN MYSELF INTO THIS TIME.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Havelock Vetinari was not a stupid boy. You didn't get awarded big contracts and trusted with delicate missions by being stupid. He knew very well that he was being followed and he was determined to find out why.

At first he had thought that it was just Downey or some other rival assassin being nosy or trying to catch him off-guard but his followers were not nearly quiet enough for that. If he slowed down his pace he could hear them huffing and puffing along behind and he was sure that at least one of them was wearing heeled boots.

Two of them were women, of that he was certain; he had heard their muffled voices and the length and pace of their stride gave them away. As for the other…

It had taken him quite some time to decide that there was a third person for his movements were so stealthy that Havelock felt he was simply playing a hunch except that there was no way the women would have been able to follow him by themselves. He considered this for some time as he strolled along the rooftops, taking in the fresh air of the night11.

The job had gone smoothly, very smoothly in fact and he allowed himself a certain amount of pride in that. He had not been hindered in any way and so he deduced that his followers were not engaged in an act of sabotage upon him. Indeed they seemed more than happy simply to observe him from a safe distance. What were they up to then?

Havelock changed direction again and began to pick up his pace. If he managed to lose his followers perhaps he could sneak up behind them and find out who they were in subtle and only slightly unpleasant ways.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

The clouds which had shrouded the moon for most of the night were beginning to disperse. The thin silvery light cut sharp angles in everything; made drops seem steeper and corners sharper.

_We must be nearly there,_ thought Susan and her stomach tightened at the thought, making it difficult to run. The boy they were following had disappeared from view again and Vetinari seemed to be running on a mixture of instinct and memory. The tight look upon his face showed her he knew they were close.

They leapt across the gap that formed the mouth of a narrow alley and Susan was ready to run again when she heard a strangled yelp from behind. She turned to see Henriette sprawled on the ground, her ankle twisted into an uncomfortable position. She was sucking air in sharply through her teeth.

Susan darted back to her.

"What happened?" she asked with concern.

"I slipped," muttered the other girl.

"Does it hurt much?" asked Susan.

"Of course it bloody hurts!" retorted Henriette. "But I don't think there's too much damage."

Reaching down Susan helped Henriette to her feet with a certain amount of groaning.

"Try putting some weight on it."

"Ouch!"

"Perhaps not then. Can you walk at all?"

"A bit. Maybe if both of you helped me?"

"Good idea. If your could just take her other arm your lordship… your lordship?"

But Vetinari was nowhere to be seen. Susan swore under her breath and, had she not been in a lot of pain and a certain amount of fear at being stranded, Henriette would have been impressed.

"We'll just have to go on and hope we catch up to him," sighed Susan.

And so they began to hobble carefully over the roof. However they had barely reached the chimney stack when somewhere close-to they heard a crash and a cry. This in itself might not have been so very singular in a city like Ankh-Morpok but what chilled the hearts of the two women was very definite resemblance between this voice and the voice of Havelock Vetinari.

Regardless of pain and fatigue both women broke into a run, skimming across the remaining rooftops in the desperate hope that they were not too late.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

It had been so easy. All he had to do was wait, knowing his prey would come this way sooner or later. When the young man had finally darted out from behind the chimney Downey had watched with vicious glee as he had slipped on the carefully loosened tiles.

Vetinari came down with a shout that echoed through the empty streets below. He groaned and tried to pick himself up but all the air seemed gone from his lungs and he decided it might be safer just to lie still for a minute. That was when he heard the soft footsteps creeping up behind him. Someone leaned down and turned him over onto his back. It was Downey. He smiled.

Before Havelock could swallow enough air to launch an attack something dull and heavy connected with his skull and darkness claimed him.

"Sorry old boy," murmured Downey silkily, "but it really is better all round."

An expensive leather shoe flew out and kicked the unconscious assassin off the edge of the roof.

"Bye bye Dog Botherer," said Downey, waving.

10 This was accompanied by a bear trap just below the sill and specially set floorboards which reacted to pressure and sent poisoned darts flying into anyone present with the result that his lordship had taken to walking around his room in full armour save when in bed.

If you sat on the bed in armour you released the acid jests which would not only corrode your armour in ten seconds but most of your flesh as well.

11 Or at least the night air. As ever with the air around the city of Ankh-Morpok the freshness of it was questionable.


	10. Chapter 10

Hello folks,yup I'm back again after a rather extended leave of absence. Thanks for all the encouragement and reviews I've had in the interim, you have all been fab. Just one more chapter to go now so hopefully it should all be finished soon lol, no really I mean it. Anyway here you go, I hope you enjoy it.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

_Somewhere a boy fell…_

Vetinari felt time ripple around him as he ran. He ignored the startled form of Aneurin Downey who cried out in fright as he tore across the rooftop and plunged off the edge of the building. He hit the ground and rolled, muscles he had forgotten he had were complaining angrily and were no doubt going to give him hell for the next few days. He ignored them. Jumping to his feet his head snapped around, getting his bearings but he was knocked over again as the universe rippled and time pulled the ground out from beneath his feet.

Pulling himself to his knees Vetinari saw the street in which he lay split in two, two ghostly images of the same scene playing before his eyes. Two nameless black alleys stretched out before him with numberless doors, perfect mirror images and in both, near the identical walls of identical high buildings lay the two bodies of the same young man.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

It was all going wrong, thought Susan as she ran. The Disc gave another great shift and she tried not to think about the fact that there were now two roofs beneath her feet and only one of her. Somewhere at her side Henriette was trying to run with her eyes closed.

If they didn't get there fast time would sew itself back together again the wrong way round and there would very probably be explosions, or something messy at any rate. Running between realities Susan just prayed she was going in the right direction. One of them had to die, one of them was supposed to die, she just wasn't sure which one.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Vetinari stood in the middle of the rift and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was thinking. He was thinking very carefully indeed because it can be hard to concentrate when your memory is trying to replay itself before your eyes and can't quite decide what happens next.

Which one was it? Which one of these boys was him? He jammed his eyes tight shut and tried to think.

A low moan from each side broke his train of thought and his eyes snapped open rapidly. They were waking up. All around him reality quivered violently as the two strains of time and space slowly began to merge back into one with a relentless inevitability. They seeped into each other as the air fizzed and trembled around him. The two young men were already starting to flow together once more.

Vetinari sank to his knees once more. Anyone watching might have thought he was praying, but Havelock Vetinari believed in no Gods1. He stayed there, a little point of calm in the temporal maelstrom which surrounded him, for what felt like a long time. The suddenly he threw himself forward.

He landed astride the semi-conscious boy who was by this time almost whole again except that he appeared to have two heads. His steely gaze met both pairs of dazed and confused eyes; he was looking for something. The boy on the right blinked at him. The boy on the left frowned, "Who…" he began but he never got the chance to finish.

It was a fact that, while attending the Assassins School Havelock Vetinari had studied languages, although no one was sure which ones. However this did not negate the fact that it was a school for Assassins and no doubt his old tutors would have considered themselves proud if they had witnessed the speed with which he broke what was effectively his own neck. Dead before he could even cry out.

_And so died the last of the ill-fated Vetinari family, his body cooling under the dark and relatively clear night sky of Ankh-Morpok._

_88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888_

Henriette stopped running when everything went still. She glanced at Susan who stood by her side. Everything was quiet.

"Is it? Has he?" she asked.

"I don't know," replied Susan honestly.

That was when the Disc itself began to scream.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

In the alley Vetinari covered his ears and bent over the body of the dead boy, trying to block out the terrible cry that seemed to pierce his skin like a thousand ice-cold needles.

_Damn,_ he thought to himself. _Perhaps I killed the wrong one._

OH I DON'T THINK SO, said a voice from just inside his ear. He looked up to see the heavily cowled figure of Death, standing above him.

"Miss Susan?" he said.

DEAR ME NO, said Death. I'M SUSAN'S GRANDFATHER, LOOK. And he drew back the cowl to reveal gleaming bone. Vetinari nodded, the screaming was getting slowly quieter.

"Then if I might ask such a question, if I killed the right boy what was all the noise about?"

OH JUST TIME SORTING ITSELF OUT REALLY. HE ALWAYS HAS TO MAKE SUCH A FUSS ABOUT IT ALL.

"I see. So everything is as it should be, yes?"

ABSOLUTELY, LOOK FOR YOURSELF. Death indicated the boy on the ground and when Vetinari looked closely he saw that he was indeed alive and well. He was also rather unfortunately staring at him.

Death shook his head as he watched the future Patrician knock out his un-protesting younger self.

TELL ME, he said after a minute. HOW DID YOU KNOW WHICH ONE TO CHOOSE?

Vetinari picked himself up off the ground and meticulously dusted himself off. He indicated the boy, "He kept his mouth shut," he replied.

I DON'T THINK I UNDERSTAND.

"The other one didn't recognize me and was prepared to say so." Vetinari fixed Death with his coolest blue stare. "Whoever said that honesty was the best policy was not a politician. He simply would not have survived in my life."

Death was quiet for a while.

THEY DID TELL ME YOU'RE A HEARTLESS BASTARD, he said quietly.

Vetinari shrugged. "As Commander Vimes is so fond of telling me; everybody has to be something."

Death thought about this then he nodded.

ALRIGHT THEN, I SUPPOSE I'LL LEAVE YOU TO IT.

"Aren't you going to wait for your granddaughter? She and Miss Nonsense should be here any moment."

NO, SHE'LL ONLY YELL AT ME AGAIN AND QUITE FRNAKLY I CAN ONLY STAND IT ONCE EVERY FEW MONTHS AS IT IS.

"I see."

OH, UMM… WOULD YOU MIND NOT TELLING HER YOU SAW ME. SHE'S A BIT HIGHLY STRUNG AND IT WOULD JUST UPSET HER.

"And she would yell at you?"

MOST PROBABLY.

"Very well."

EXCELLENT. WELL, SEE YOU AROUND IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

Vetinari did not comment on this last as he watched the cloaked figure recede into the distance. Almost at the same time as Death finally disappeared Susan and Henriette came screaming around the corner behind him. Vetinari closed eyes and took a long steadying breath. He thought he almost preferred the company of Death.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"Father what on the Disc have you been doing!"

Henriette was staring at the giant fishing net strung from the ceiling of the palace attic which at the moment contained at least twelve members of the palace guard who were indulging in a rather uncomfortable game of poker. One or two of them doffed their helmets at she and Susan.

"Oh hello Henriette," called Leonard cheerily from near the BOOT. "It's a formula for space travel. I thought we could modify the BOOT and use it to take the first really good look at Great A'Tuin. What do you think my Lord?"

As usual Leonard had gone completely off the actual route of the conversation and was currently indicating the wall of the attic which he had covered in chalky scrawl.

"Very interesting Leonard," replied the Patrician. "But I believe that your daughter was referring to the number of official personages you appear to be holding captive."

"Oh they aren't captives, actually they've been ever so co-operative. When I told them I was working for you they just couldn't do enough to help."

"Oi," came a voice from the net, "wachew mean you work for 'im. We though you said you work for the Patrician!"

"Ah," murmured Vetinari. "I think it might be a rather good idea if we left now Leonard."

"Yes my Lord," said the little man slightly sadly.

"Yes, I think it's time we got back," said Susan.

"But we are back Miss!" said Leonard in surprise.

"She means," began Henriette and then stopped herself. "Let's just go. I'll explain what she means later."

1 Which wasn't to say that he denied that they existed, he just didn't see the point in them. After all he had always found matters of destiny and the like to end much more beneficially when he dealt with them instead.


	11. Chapter 11

Yay it's finally finished! Oh no it's finished!- please pick whichever reply you prefer lol. But yes, this is the end. I will now be releasing his lordship from captivity, unless he really wants to stay that is. Anyhoo, read and please please enjoy!

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

When the door to the Oblong Office opened and Lord Vetinari came out looking a little out of breath and with some rather odd stains on his robes but most definitely alive, Rufus Drumknott, who had been crying solidly for the last half hour, fainted from sheer delight. Vetinari regarded the prone form of his clerk.

"How odd," he murmured.

"Um, I think I might have given him a bit of a scare earlier on," said Susan sheepishly.

"I see."

He circumnavigated the body of the skinny little man and opened the door to the outer office.

"Do forgive me for not showing you out your ladyship, however I am sure you will understand that I am rather tired and I apparently have my chief clerk to deal with. You can find your own way I presume?"

Susan wondered what would happen if she said he presumed wrongly but decided she would rather not think about that. She was tired and she was limping from her broken boot heel and she simply couldn't be bothered arguing.

"Yes sir," was all she said.

She was halfway through the door when a thought struck her.

"What will happen to Henriette and her father?" she asked.

"Happen?" enquired the Patrician, raising an eyebrow. "Why should you think anything would happen to them?"

Susan nodded quietly.

"Just making sure," she murmured.

"Good night your grace."

"Good night your lordship."

And with that he closed the door on her.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Lord Downey was not by nature a nervous man. When you were the Chief Assassin in a city like Ankh-Morpok you couldn't be. However when the messenger had arrived with to tell him that the Patrician wished to see him at his leisure even the strongest of men would feel their knees begin to quake.

Lord Vetinari strode quietly into the office and took the proffered chair.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure my Lord?" asked Downey carefully.

The Patrician smiled thinly.

"Oh, I simply wished to see that everything is as it should be. Everything _is_ as it should be is it not?"

"Yes of course," said Downey, raising his chin in slight defiance.

"Excellent, excellent."

There was an odd silence for a few moments and Downey began to feel that it was not entirely to his advantage.

"I was wondering," said the Patrician softly, his smile broadening slightly, "about student deaths."

"Student deaths my lord?"

"Yes. It is of course the nature of the guild to inspire what one might call active competition among students, although I know it is not strictly condoned."

"Not strictly speaking, no."

"I have always felt that it was something of a waste."

Downey didn't reply; he was beginning to fell very uncomfortable indeed.

"All those cunning plans concocted in the dark deep within the brain of some ambitious and callous individual," continued Vetinari, his eyes fixed on those of the Chief Assassin. "It is always such a pity when those plans never quite come to fruition."

Downey realized he was supposed to answer.

"Um I suppose so my lord," he stammered.

"Quite."

There was another of those unsettling silences before the Patrician rose to his feet.

"Was that all sir?" asked Downey, hoping against hope.

"Yes Aneurin," replied Vetinari with a thin lipped smile. "That will be all, for now."

As soon as Vetinari was gone Downey sank into his chair and mopped his forehead with a silk handkerchief1. He felt a little sick. He hadn't slept well the night before, there had been odd dreams. Downey closed his eyes and tried not to think about it. Who needed an avenging angel when they had Havelock Vetinari?

Downey gritted his teeth and went back to his paperwork.

_Bloody Dog-Botherer,_ he thought to himself. _Next time I'll drop him off a higher roof._

A noise from the window made him jump, but it was only a pigeon. Downey chuckled at himself. Even Vetinari wouldn't stoop to employing pigeons… would he?

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Sun light streamed in through the skylights as Vetinari entered Leonard's attic. The inventor was tinkering with something in the corner and Henriette was tidying the remains of the latest explosion.

"Good afternoon my lord," said Leonard cheerfully. "Would you like some coffee?"

"That would be most pleasant Leonard," he replied. He lifted a pile of drawings from a chair and sat down. He looked around the airy room and frowned.

"Leonard?" he said, one eyebrow already disappearing towards his hairline.

"There was an accident," said Henriette, cutting him off.

"An accident?"

She emptied another shovel full of nuts and bolts into the bin.

"Father tried to incorporate some flashing lights and a steering mechanism."

"I thought the BOOT couldn't move in space?"

"It couldn't," said Henriette, throwing herself into the chair opposite. "He just forgot that when he went to test it."

"I see. So no more BOOT."

"No more BOOT I'm afraid."

Leonard, who had ignored the conversation thus far bounced over with a cup and saucer in his hand which he gave to Vetinari.

"Perhaps it's just as well," murmured the Patrician as he carefully stirred his coffee.

"My lord," ventured Leonard.

"Yes Leonard?"

"I was wondering if perhaps you might be interested in some plans I've been designing for a sort of horseless carriage."

"A horseless carriage, but how does it move?"

"You remember my theories on internal combustion my lord?"

Vetinari gave an almost imperceptible groan. "A little too well Leonard."

"Well, sir I was thinking that if I…" and off he went.

Vetinari leant back in his chair slightly and pretended to listen as Leonard explained his new idea while Henriette did her best to dissuade him.

So this was it was it? This was what he got for saving time, space and life as they knew it? Things went on just as they always had done.

_Well?_ said the little voice in his head. _Isn't that what you always want? For things to keep going?_

_Just as long as no one tries to see how it works._

_People want to be amazed by the machine, they don't really care how it works. Except for Leonard perhaps._

_Yes. Isn't it a good thing he's harmless._

His ears pricked up as Leonard described the possible results of a malfunction with the engine, mostly involving explosions.

_Alright,_ Vetinari corrected himself, _mostly harmless._

_8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888_

Death put out a hand. A life-timer appeared; on it was the name HAVELOCK VETINARI. The sand ran through it at an even pace and there was still a lot left in the top bulb.

SORRY EVERYONE, said Death to the air in general. IT LOOKS AS THOUGH YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO WAIT A WHILE FOR THIS ONE.

The timer disappeared and Death mounted Binky who was standing quietly by.

COME ON BINKY, he said gently. WORK TO DO.

1 Black of course.


End file.
